Category Archives: Sydney

The Pineapple Express and Rally to End Discrimination Against International Students

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Internet connection back to normal after almost one and half weeks of having dial-up speed. All I can say is fuck you Allegro. I didn’t pay $69.00 a month to have this shit.

Talking about shit, I realized that I really need to clean up my room. Dust and moth balls piling up everywhere. The last time I cleaned my room was a month and half ago? So its spring-cleaning time on Saturday. I’m not really looking forward to that.

I’ve just finished watching “The Pineapple Express”. I still can’t believe the hostel management decided to screen the show.I mean, they have a strict policy on “the forbidden use and/or being under the influence of drugs/illegal substance in the building” (paraphrased) and they screened a show that is based on weed usage. Hmm, maybe they do have a sense of humour after all. A really weird sense of humour.

The verdict for the movie? Well…. I wished I was high when I was watching the movie because it seriously used up all my powers of suspension of belief.

I mean, the ending of the movie, what a big blow-bang. Spoiler ahead: almost everyone dies. Furthermore, the concept was a bit hard to believe. And it seemed improbable that three guys can get away with the death of 100 people blown sky-high. Oh, wait, its a stoner movie. While its not one of Seth Rogan best movie and some parts did make me laugh and were really funny,  I still wished I was high when I was watching it. Then, I’ll probably laugh for the next 2 hours straight. Really.

One question though, is that real weed in the movie? Do Seth Rogan and the others really smoke up in the movie? Cause if they do, then its really, really, really… wow.

Now to the highlight of the post.

I went for a mass demonstration yesterday.

I kid you not. My first mass demonstration. My virginal one.

I spoke in one of my earlier post (“English Grammar” post) that I have to pay $13,000 per semester fees for my university education. Given that my degree is 3 years and I’m planning to take on an extra one year to do an honours course, my total education fee will come up to about $104,000. This does not includes housing, transport and miscellaneous fees. So I’m looking at a $200,000 plus debt that I’ll be owning my dad.

So yesterday, I joined a mass demonstration to ensure fair education rights for international students and end discrimination against us. Just to let you know what we’re (I’m) fighting for, I’ll give you a bit of background history.

In 1988 (or 89), the NSW government ended transportation concession fees for international students, on the basis that we don’t pay taxes or provide to the economy. Which, is a really what the fuck logic.

First off, international students still have to pay taxes when we work. So that means our income are still tax-deductible. So it means that we still contribute to the economy. Although international students are allowed to claim back their taxes before they return to their home countries, I am told that the procedures are so complicated and convoluted that most can’t even get back their tax refunds. Talk about outright stealing. 

Secondly, on what basis are we not contributing to the economy? Is $26,000 per academic year not enough? 20% of Sydney University comes from international students like me while the rest comes from government funding, donations and the university investment portfolios. 20% is a lot, if you take account the proportion of international students against local students. 

Yet, despite these, the NSW and Victoria state governments still do not want to grant international students concessions cards and provide safe, affordable housings. So international students effectively pay the full transport fares while local students only pay half the price.

As for housing, none is provided for first year students. In the UK, first year students are automatically provided a room on the university campus or somewhere near the university campus. I can’t say this applies to ALL UK universities but the Scottish universities I applied to (Edinburgh, Glasgow, Aberdeen and Dundee) provided housing for me. However, in Australia, although Sydney University does have a Housing Accommodation Office to help students with their accommodation, first year students are generally left on their own to find their own accommodation, which usually leads them to be cheated by unscrupulous landlords as international students are unaware of the housing rules, regulations and their rights. 

When the NSW government passed the 1988 ruling to end transport concession for international students, it meant the start of a 20 year discrimination against international students. In 2006, a lawyer (or human rights activist, can’t really remember) pointed out that what the NSW government was doing is effectively illegal discrimination against international students for 2o years. Shortly, the NSW government changed the laws so that it can continue the discrimination ‘legally’. What this means is that I, or any other international student, will be unable to bring this discrimination up to the law courts because, after all, its legal and it IS the LAW.

So on Wednesday, September 2nd, 2009, student unions/ representative councils from the NSW universities like Sydney University, UNSW, UTS, Newcastle University, Macquarie University and others from private colleges joined forces with the National Union of Students marched to the NSW state parliament house to protest against the discrimination.

International and local students including some people from the general public took part in the National Day of Action for Fair Education.

 

At Sydney U, outside Fisher Library

At Sydney U, outside Fisher Library

 

 

Outside Fisher Library

Outside Fisher Library

 

 

 

A silent man gathering his strength.

A silent man gathering his strength.

 

 

 

The banner

The banner

 

 

 

Marching off

Marching off

 

 

Leaving Sydney Uni

Leaving Sydney Uni

 

 

 

Riot Police in Sydney Uni

Riot Police in Sydney Uni

Is that riot police on the right smiling at my camera?

 

There were a lot of police around. First of all, this was a legal demonstration, so the police were informed, I think. I don’t think you’ll get this in Singapore where a one person demonstration is already considered illegal. But I couldn’t help thinking about this, was the police there to keep us from the public, or the public from us? That is something I’ll think about for a long while. 

 

 

Outside UTS

Outside UTS

 

 

 

Outside UTS

Outside UTS

 

 

 

Outside NSW State Parliament House

Outside NSW State Parliament House

 

 

 

Outside the NSW State Parliament House

Outside the NSW State Parliament House

 

 

We marched from Sydney Uni to the UTS and then proceeded for about an hour through Sydney’s CBD to the NSW State Parliament House. Throughout the march, we were on the roads, so the police had to make the traffic give way to us. The whole demonstration took about more than two hours.

We made our voices heard, our intentions known but we will have to wait for the NSW government response.

But like one of the rally organizers said, we will not stop the fight until we end the discrimination.

Secret Societies and NDP.

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Warning: Very Long Post and Rant Ahead. For Sharmen and Gilbert, skip if you don’t want to waste your “2 years”.

Happy reading.

I’ve been blogging a lot the past 2 days and I have 3 reasons for this sudden spurt of inspiration:

1) I’m procrastinating on my studies. My reading list is just piling up and up.

2) I’m bored

3) I’m procrastinating and cannot be bothered to study. What’s the point in doing things half-heartily?

4) I’ve got a lot of things to say. Might as well do some verbal diarrhea now cause I’m not going to blog for the rest of the week (I’ll be studying very hard to catch up on the readings).

Okay, that’s 4 reasons.

Anyway, I got off MSN with Ranga a few hours ago and we were both talking (me talking, he bitching) about NDP. For those non-Singaporeans, NDP means National Day Parade. NDP falls on 09 August and its the day when Singapore was unceremoniously kicked out of the Malaysia Federation in 1965. We are the only country to be given our independence against our will. What a fucking irony.

Yes, I know a lot about Singapore’s history. I am FASCINATED by my country’s history. I’ve read Lee Kuan Yew’s memoirs: “The Singapore Story” and “From Third World to First”. And not the abridged versions. The thick, proper ones. And not because I was in History class, I read them out of my own free will (and time).

Anyway, Ranga was complaining how NDP was just the same old, same old. Halfway through, he mentioned that it was 8:22pm in Singapore and he was feeling very irritated. I asked him why and he said something about the pledge. Then I realized and started LOLing at him through MSN.

Apparently, I read on Temasek Review’s website that every Singaporean is encouraged to say the National pledge at 8.22pm. Ranga said he was not going to do it and said that serving 2 years in National Service was equivalent to saying the pledge 100 times. I couldn’t help but agree.

I don’t see the point of having a country-wide mass pledge because it seems too co-ordinated and seems like another Singaporean attempt to break the world record. Okay, let’s say our 3 million odd people says the pledge, what happens after that?

Nothing.

Why?

Cause if you think about it, every morning from Monday to Friday, thousands upon thousands of school kids are saying the pledge during school assemblies. So essentially, we are having a mass pledge day after day during school weeks. I know cause I sang the National Anthem and said the pledge everyday for 6 years in primary school.

So after the 3 million odd people said the pledge, they’ll just continue with doing whatever they’re doing in their life. What an anti-climax. Same old, same old.

Halfway through our MSN coversation, Ranga asked if I had to celebrate NDP in Sydney. I told him that the Singaporean Student Society in the USyd might be holding a dinner celebration or something like that. I don’t know cause I didn’t join the society and frankly speaking, I only know one Singaporean student, a girl, from the university. The rest are my army khakis and I’m pretty sure that the 3 of them are not celebrating NDP too.

Coincidentally, my dad SMSed me to ask if Singaporeans were celebrating NDP in Sydney. I told him I didn’t know and he asked if the embassy were celebrating.

I replied: “Don’t know, not sure.”

He asked if I was registered with the Singaporean embassy. I returned his question with a question, asking if I had needed to register with them. Wait later kenna called back enlistment, then how? He told me to register with them so that I’ll be inform about any Singaporean celebrations or events.

I think I’ll register with them. But only if I run into any difficulties or problems in Sydney. But for me attending Singaporean events? Forget it.

Back to the MSN conversation.

Ranga said that he finds these Singaporean Student Societies stupid. In fact, when I told him that it was not only Singaporeans doing it and the Koreans, Chinese, Taiwanese, French, German and Vietnamese and majority of the international students have their own societies, he said he found all of them stupid.

I agreed with him, more or less.

I agreed with Ranga because it was kind of pointless on congregating together in a foreign country. I mean, you go to a foreign country to either work or study for the next few years and to me, you’ll need to submerge yourself into the local culture. I mean, what’s the point of staying to a foreign country for a few years and not learning anything?

I understand that the purpose of having these societies are to provide support and help for their own nationalities. Yes, we all get homesick in a new country and we all feel lost. These nationality societies provide some comfort by reminding us of our home country and hey, you get to speak in your home country lingo and probably get to meet some hot chicks/hunks!

I don’t find anything wrong with that but I find it rather ironic.

Let me pick on my own nationality (who else can I pick on?).

I bet the majority of the Singaporeans student here complain about Singapore constantly. Hey, I admit I’m one of them too. Weather fucking hot and humid. Government fucking restrictive. We guys have to serving 2 years of NS. Fuck lah. Singapore not fun at all lor. Singapore boring lor. Singapore where got 4 seasons, HAH? Singapore no hot chicks/ hunks. Singapore boring, Singapore boring, Singapore sucks, Singapore fucks, Singapore and the list goes on.

Yet, over here, they congregate together. For what? Just like what Ranga said, when they are in Singapore, they complain and complain. Yet once they are out of Singapore, they form Singaporean societies. He also added that if they loved Singapore so much, they should have just stayed on in Singapore. Exactly my point.

Step out of your comfort zones! Explore new cultures! USyd has so many international students! Explore their cultures! This goes to all the nationality societies. In fact, USyd, or more accurately, the USyd Union has a society called UniMates and I’m a member of that. UniMates is formed just for international students. They organize outings to explore Sydney and Australian cultures and to provide support for international students. Homesick? Join UniMates. Lost and sleepless in Sydney? Join Unimates. Not sure of what to do with your course? Join UniMates. Want to meet your future BF/GF? Joing UniMates. UniMates. UniMates.

Yeah, this is blatant advertising but I couldn’t care less. The only thing I see good coming out of these nationality societies is national solitary. Seriously, its a waste of time and money if you don’t make full use of the diverse cultural and social life in university.

Won’t it be funny if you studied in a foreign country and went back to your homeland, not knowing anything about your host country??? Let’s take this scenario for an example. Let’s take ME for an example:

Parents: “Ah Boy, ah, so how’s Australia? Got learn anything new?”

Ah Boy (Me): “Got lor, economics lor.” (I’m doing Arts but majority of the Singaporeans are in Econs and Business).

Parents: “No lah, I mean, about Australia, Sydney.”

Ah Boy: “Like what?”

Parents: “Like their culture, what they eat, drink, how they dress, what’s the lifestyle.”

Ah Boy: “Err… the shops close very early. Like 9pm. No 24 hours food outlet.”

Parents: “And?”

Ah Boy: “Err… uh….. ya, that’s all loh. Oh and got a lot of Singaporeans friends.”

Parents: “KNN, spend 3 years just to make friends with Singaporeans. Then pay $100,000 for what?”

I’m not saying that it’s not right to make friends with our fellow countrymen. Neither am I saying that we should start adopting Australian mannerisms, accent, style and et cetera. No, what I’m saying is that we should stop being so insulated in our own little world. It irritates the shit out of me to see every nationality congregating together in the university. Each world making minimal contact with each other or the local population, each world minding their own business. Maybe I’ve only been in school for one month and haven’t explore much of the dynamics of the student population.

Damn, I should take up anthropology next Semester.

But yeah, so far what I noticed is each little bubble bouncing around without making contact at all. It’s really a shame for USyd, really.

I once told the Singaporean girl that I would never identify myself outright as a Singaporean to the Singaporeans in USyd. I’m not trying to avoid them or reject them but for me, if I wanted to make any new Singaporean friend, I would have stayed on in Singapore. If a Singaporean here asked if I am a Singaporean, I would say yes, I’m Singaporean, I won’t deny it. But when I hear a group of Singaporeans chattering nearby, I won’t go up to them and introduce myself as a Singaporean.

Which brings me to yet another point.

Neil Humphreys, a British writer who stayed in Singapore for 10 years once gave this remark. During his student days in the University of Manchester, he noticed that the Asians tended to stay within their own groups. They cooked rice, ate rice, spoke Chinese, Thai and other Asian languages and hanged out together instead of mixing around with other nationalities. So Chinese with Chinese. Thais with Thais and so on.

Now he’s not being racist. No, he’s not. Hear me out first. Or you can go read his travelogues on Singaporean culture. I bet he knows more than the typical Singaporean teenager. So shut up and listen.

Neil Humphreys came from a working class background. A blue-collared background to be exact. A single parent (his mum) home to be more exact. Now, at that point of time, the class system was still quite entrenched in the British mentality. So for a working class, blue-collared boy like Neil to make it to university, it was quite a surprise. Really. Neil also added that his London Cockney accent was quite distinctive within the student body as most came from the middle to upper classes.

Instead of trying to blend in with those classes and hiding his blue-collared background, Neil said he decided to stick to his accent and stick out like a sore thumb. He stuck out even more when he befriended a Scottish guy who spoke in very thick Scottish accent. But that’s another story.

What Neil said was that he found it rather absurd that all the Asians stuck together instead of learning more about their host country’s culture. The only Asian friend he made was a Hong Kongker, who rather succinctly told Neil that if he wanted to make Hong Kong friends, he would have stayed put in Hong Kong.

Therefore, Neil also encourage one to absorb the local culture. During his 10 year stay in Singapore from the 1990s to 2000s, he stayed in a HDB flat in Toa Payoh and ate in coffee shops. And was subjected to many pokes and prods from Singaporean heartlanders. He did not go to Singapore on some expat packages with some MNCs. He just plop himself in Singapore and called it home for the next 10 years and worked in local, quasi-governmental organization like SPH (Singapore Press Holdings) and as a teacher.

His Singaporean travelogues should be read. Seriously. But I’m just diverting away from the main issues.

Right now my favourite ‘Singaporean’ author is staying in some city called Wallagoong or some obscure place, probably trying to absorb Aussie culture there. But that’s not the point.

The point is, if I wanted more Singaporean friends, I would have stayed in Singapore, innit? INNIT? If I wanted to congregate with other Singaporeans, I would have studied in NUS, NTU or SMU.

So please stop congregating in nationality societies. It defeats the purpose of studying in a multicultural university.

Finally, I’ll like to bring up another matter.

One cold, cloudy day in school, I was trying to walk as fast as I can to the bookstore to get some novels that were required reading for English class. I was only wearing a thin cardigan and sweater and so I was trying to get to the warm bookstore as fast as possible. Along the way, this Chinese woman stopped me and I made a mistake of slowing down for her.

Before the words came out of her mouth, I knew exactly what she was going to say.

“Are you a student? Do you go to church? I am from a church nearby and would like to invite you to our bible studies.”

This have happened to me 4 or 5 times. I realized they always target the asians and never the caucasians. And then they always target ME. WHY? Anyway, I declined her offers as usual and started to increase my walking speed. It was FUCKING cold. The sky was overcast and there was no sun that day.

Then she asked me where I was from.

I was still walking, so I said “I am SINGAPOREAN”

“Oh, so you are Japanese.”

Well, I was so shocked that I actually stopped in disbelief. The Chinese women took the wrong hint and thought that she caught my attention and so she went on blabbing about some ridiculous thing about how 1 in 2 Japanese are atheists or don’t believe in God or want to but have no idea where to start. She hopes to convince those 1 in 2 Japanese that there is more to life and God is the way and so on. All this while, she kept looking at me.

So I guess I must be those 1 in 2 Japanese.

After she finished her little speech, she stared expectantly at me, waiting for my reply. I was cold, tired and irritated and so I gave her a curt “not interested” and walked off.

Well, halfway to the bookstore, I decided to stop at a bench to readjust my heavy backpack. From the corner of my eye, I saw a couple creeping up towards me.

They really creep up towards me. I’m not joking. Seriously. They approached me silently and cautiously, eyeing my every movement.

I felt cornered.

Before I knew it, the couple were standing beside me and they just stood there, not saying anything.

I looked up and politely asked them if I could be of any assistance. After all, USyd has dozen of tourists walking around the campus and the couple could be one of them.

But they were not tourists.

The male started hesitantly, he asked me in a rather soft voice if I would like to join their bible study and that their church was just nearby. Would I care to join them for one session.

No, I didn’t care and declined their invitation. Fortunately, they were not as persistent as the previous Chinese lady and so they smiled and left me alone.

Damn it, I think I need to re-grow my facial hair and look like a hobo. In that case, these people would leave me alone and stop approaching me. I mean, out of all the asians walking around me (and there are A LOT), they always target me. WHY? WHY? WHY?

Maybe the Singapore Student Society are out to get me through these means?

Scary.

I’m fucked.

P.S. Its 3am and I’m really, really tired. So I’m sorry if this blog just goes on and on randomly. I tried to structure it coherently but am just too tired.

Tripping to Blue Mountains Part 3

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I went for my first lecture today. It was an English course studying the relationship between film and text and something like that. We spent half hour watching Buster Keaton’s “Cops” (1922) movie before listening to the lecturer talk.

I have to say, that 3 years of not attending school has certainly been a big impact on my brain. While the rest of the lecture room (400+ students) were scribbling furiously on their notepads, me and a few others were either doodling away or just staring in space, with me doing the latter.

I realized I lost the skills of writing down notes while listening to the lecturer/teacher talk. This is bad, very bad as that’s how most lectures operate. Furthermore, to add to the confusion of first day in school is the lists “recommended and required reading”, textbooks and course readers I’ll have to buy or borrow. I tried going through all my units of study outlines this afternoon: English, English (Literary), Psychology and World Politics.

I fell asleep within 15 minutes.

Good God.

Seems like school’s going to be an uphill battle now. And I hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate

Absolutely hate the first day first week of school. All these hustle and bustle and the rush to get the texts and reading list and the rush to classes, not knowing what is expected of you. I hate first weeks at school.

And I hate buying textbooks. I miss the days in the Ho Chi Minh where in my school, we don’t buy textbooks. We just troop down the library to borrow it for the next 12 months. Why can’t Sydney U have that? Oh, yeah, that’s because there will be 1000 first year undergraduates fighting for the same books. This is like going back to the time in Singapore where buying textbooks were the norm.

Tomorrow is Psychology 1002 lecture, which I just read from the course outline that it is a continuation from Psychology 1001 in Semester 1. FUCK. So that means 400 students (minus some who came in with me in Semester 2) will have the basic grounding in the subject and they’ll probably know what to study and what is expected from them. If Psychology is graded on a curve, I’m FUCKED! But thankfully, the university switched to a “academic system”, so no more grading curves. I feel like dropping Psychology and taking up some arts subject. But I’ll test the waters tomorrow.

Sorry for the rant above. Anyway, back to Blue Mountains and the memories of happier times.

So H and I got off from the Skyway and proceeded to the (in)famous Railway. This Railway is known as the steepest Railway in the world. I shit you not, it is the steepest Railway in the world. As H nicely said: “It’s just like a roller-coaster, except much, much slower.”

By then, I was curious and excited to see how steep the Railway was. While waiting for our little tram to come up from the bottom of the mountain, I took a picture:

The Railway

The Railway

It doesn’t look steep here. See that thing at the bottom of the picture? That’s the tram. Well, H and I wanted to seat at the front but we didn’t get too because of the queue. So we sat at the front of the second compartment. In a way, its still the front, right?

In the tram

In the tram

You see that rubber thingy in front. At first, I thought it was those safety harnesses that trap you in your seat before the ride starts. Well, I was wrong, it was not a safety harness, it just a rubber thing to give you some minimal protection. In fact, the whole ride, we were “au natural”, no safety harnesses at all. I was sitting at the side and there was only a small little metal chain protecting me. Which mean if the tram jerk, I could have flew out and down to the bottom and landed in a very, very  sorry state.

It’s safe. Don’t worry. It will be a fun experience. One tip? Put your feet up on the carpeted board like what H did in the photo. Do it. I mean, really, really do it. You’ll know why.

H and I in the tram

H and I in the tram

Looking pretty excited. Ride about to start. See, no protection barrier beside me. Then, off we went.

In the cave at an almost 90 degrees angle

In the cave at an almost 90 degrees angle

At the start of the ride, we went through a cave or tunnel at an incline of almost 90 degrees. It was like a roller-coaster. See our feet on the board? That’s why you want to do that. I couldn’t really shoot anything cause the tunnel was too dark.

Views from the tram

Views from the tram

Look at the bottom of the picture. See the people’s head below my feet in the next compartment? That’s how steep it was.


A view from the tram

A view from the tram

Another clearer example. The ride lasted for about 5 minutes and after many random photos that I’m not going to post here, we reached the base of the mountain.


The Three Sisters

The Three Sisters

The Three Sisters make their entrance again.


Railway Fun Facts

Railway Fun Facts

Railway History

Railway History

H and I on the prototype

H and I on the prototype

After the Railway, we proceeded to ‘bushwalk’ around the National Park. On the way, we saw a mountain stream. The source of the stream is from Katoomba Falls:


Clear mountain stream

Clear mountain stream

Clear Mountain Stream

Clear Mountain Stream

You can drink the water from the stream. It has a very mineral-ty taste to it. Very cold and refreshing. After that, we continued with our ‘bush walk’ and H broke out into a SAF marching song. Damn guy, as if I needed an SAF army song to motivate me. Below are the random pictures I took during our walk.


Katoomba Mines

Katoomba Mines

Knotted tree branch

Knotted tree branch

Sign explaining why tree is knotted

Sign explaining why tree is knotted

The Cableway

The Cableway

Journey to the top. We met the same tour guide from the Skyway on the Cableway. He was hilarious, he saw a group of Asian tourists in the Cableway and proceeded to say hello to them in every conceivable Asian language from Thai to Malay until he got it right. The tourists were from Taiwan.

Another shot of nature

Another shot of nature

After the Cableway, we hanged around Scenic World waiting for taxis before deciding to call one (H paid cab fare). From there, H brought me to this secret place:

The Secret House

The Secret House

Ladies and Gentleman, boys and girls, allow me to introduce you The Secret House or better known as Willy Wonka’s Holiday Residence and Experimental Factory. The genius of the confectionary world, or rather, the whole world resides here during the cold, winter months with his Oompa-Loompas and experiment with different types of cocoas, in the process, producing and refining one of the world’s finest art , that is, chocolate.

In the first part of the tour, I will saw you the chocolate factory:

Melted chocolate

Melted chocolate

If you were hoping for the chocolate waterfall, you’d had to go to Willy Wonka’s other factory. This is his holiday residence, so no stressful work.


Shots of the kitchen

Shots of the kitchen

A shot of the kitchen

A shot of the kitchen

There are Oompa-Loompas around but they’re too short to take photos. Beside, it was an order from Mr. Wonka not to take any photos of his Oompa-Loompas as he did not want them to be hunted by scientists and anthropologists (sorry guys, no offence).


Chocolate moulds loving carved by Willy Wonka

Chocolate moulds loving carved by Willy Wonka

Chocolate moulds

Chocolate moulds

Chocolate products

Chocolate products

H and I finally settled down and order two mugs of real hot chocolate. I ordered a slice of mud forest cake.

Mud Forest Cake

Mud Forest Cake

The scrumptious, melt-in-your-mouth Mud Forest Cake served with Willy Wonka’s special jam and marmalade sauce.


Real Hot Chocolate

Real Hot Chocolate

Its called Real Hot Chocolate for two reasons. First, it’s constantly kept hot by a candle below. The cup is actually in two parts. The metal container is where your hot chocolate is and a tea light (candle) below gives out heat. Second, it’s called Real Hot Chocolate because it is really REAL chocolate, not some powdered stuff. You see those chocolate bits? That’s where we put it in the container to melt it. Finally, the small little cup at the side contains the milk. So after combining both in the metal container and stirring and grinding them, you get delicious, REAL HOT chocolate.


Real Hot Chocolate

Real Hot Chocolate

Real Hot Chocolate

Real Hot Chocolate

The spoon doubles as a straw. Cool, eh?


H posting with his hot chocolate

H posting with his hot chocolate

Me eating my Mud Forest Cake

Me eating my Mud Forest Cake

Pure, pure bliss…..

Zuii came and joined us later. She ordered a hot chocolate and a cheesecake (darn, should have taken a photo). It was then the fiasco happened. She asked to see the pictures I took while H and I were at Scenic World and while passing her my camera….

I spilled my hot chocolate.

Thank goodness I blew out the candle earlier and it was only the last bit of hot chocolate left. Else I would have burnt, sticky pubes. Not pleasant. Still, my leather bag and jeans were splashed with hot chocolate. My scarf and jacket had some spots too. Thankfully, my leather bag bore the brunt of the spill so I was not covered in hot chocolate.

Willy Wonka offered to help but I politely declined and went to the toilet to clean up as much as I can. It was a futile effort, hot chocolate coated my jeans and bag.

Aftermath of the fiasco

Aftermath of the fiasco

Aftermath of the fiasco

Aftermath of the fiasco

Aftermath of the fiasco

Aftermath of the fiasco

H and Zuii

H and Zuii

I have to point out, Zuii’s cup matches her dress. As usual, Willy Wonka is very thoughtful. After having a wonderful time there, we bid Willy Wonka goodbye and took a cab (I paid) back to H’s apartment. After grabbing my duffel bag, we headed to Leura station to wait for the train back to Sydney. Sigh……

By the way, guys, there is no Willy Wonka, Oompa-Loompas, Willy Wonka’s Holiday Residence whatsoever. I took creative license in describing my chocolate feast. Please do not tell the cab driver that you want to go to Willy Wonka’s Holiday Residence and Experimental Factory. You would most likely be kicked out of the cab and be left alone in the cold, dark mountains.

If you want to go there, just tell any cab driver that you want to go to Katoomba Chocolate Factory. S/He’ll know where it is and s/he’ll bring you there.

The train

The train

Not my train by the way. Its the train heading towards another part of Blue Mountains far, far away. I just took it because I’ve never took a picture of an inter-city train before. It got three levels, a lower deck, middle deck and upper deck. I like to sit on the upper deck.


The train

The train

H and I on the platform

H and I on the platform

Zuii said our previous poses were too boring and deleted the pictures. So we had to pose this way. It was fucking freezing and H and I were cold. So there’s a limit to how much our body could move anyway.


The Station Master

The Station Master

Zuii and I

Zuii and I

Zuii and I

Zuii and I

My train came a few minutes later and I bid goodbye to H, Zuii and Katoomba and Leura.

One day, I’ll be back in Katoomba. I LOVE that place.

Tripping to Blue Mountains Part 2

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I said that that I would follow up with a post on part 2 of “Tripping to Blue Mountains”. Well, I’ve been busy the past few days with orientation, the student party (which was completely rad) and a BBQ lunch.

With all these activities going on, I was either busy or too damn tired to write anything.

Classes starts on tomorrow. Its something I’m not looking forward too. I do look forward to making friends but not the hassles of buying textbooks, trying to settle down in lectures and just trying to find what the hell is expected from me during my courses.

I was talking to one of my friend last night and I told him that after 3 years out of the academia, I prefer working. Why? First, you just do your job and get paid. Not so with being a student. Second, you don’t have to bring back any ‘homework’ unless you’re a workaholic. Of course, having a degree improved your chances of getting a job in the market but with the economy like this, well….

Ah, screw it.

Back to the Blue Mountains trip. Before H and I turned in for the night, we promised that we would wake up at 9:30am so that H can bring me to a popular cafe for breakfast. Well, after all the shenanigans that took place last night, we were completely tired. Furthermore, we all slept at 3am.

So it was not surprising that we both overslept. H shook me awake from my comfortable cocoon that I wrapped around myself. After groggily grumbling and rolling around in bed, I got up and enquired H about the time.

It was 11am.

Well, to be fair, H washed up and was already dressed, so it means he woke up half hour earlier. It was cold when I got out of bed, so I shivered all the way to the toilet in H’s bedroom. After taking a hot shower, changing and packing up my duffel bag, H and I were on our way to the cafe.

The cafe was on Leura’s main street, just walking distance from H’s apartment. It’s called “The Red Door Cafe”, so-called because it does has a bright fire-engine red front door. It was a very quaint little cafe, like those you find in England. Sadly, I did not take any photos.

It was crowded when we got there, so in the end, we sat by the bay windows near the front door. I didn’t mind as we could do people-watching. I was at lost at what to order when looking through the menu. Not that the menu had a lot of choices (there was only a page) but it was that all the food descriptions sounded so good. So when the friendly waitress came to take our order, I just followed H’s order.

Here’s what we order:

1) Two slices of baked baguettes.

2) Sauteed mushrooms

3) Roasted tomatoes

4) 2 sunny sunny side ups.

5) Ham

6) Slices of pink bacon.

We didn’t order drinks  cause H was going to bring me to another cafe for mocha. When the food came, it came in BIG portions. I didn’t mind cause I was starving and it was the first time in a very long time that I had a full, oily, proper sinful western breakfast.

Gosh… the mushrooms was fantastic. It had a slight buttery taste and was crunchy and kind of melted in your mouth. The baguettes were excellent too. It was not those large sized loaves. It was slightly larger than medium size and it was damn fluffy, fresh and buttery. Same goes for the tomatoes, perfectly wrinkled skin, not too dry and not too ‘wet’. Just right, nice, warm and juicy. But top marks goes to the pink bacon. Most of the bacons I tried before at hotels during ‘western’ breakfast were either too oily or too dry. But this was the best. The bacon was soft, not too oily or crunchy, and was extremely chewy and tasty. Sure, there were fats on the bacon, but who gives a damn when you’re eating such good food?

Between scoffing food in our mouths and drinking the water provided to us, H and I just stare out at the windows, taking note of the people and just enjoying the quiet chatter in the restaurant and the bustle around Main Street. I noticed there were a lot of dogs around and H mentioned that most people keep dogs because it could get really, really boring up here.

So after demolishing our breakfast (we both didn’t manage to finish the bread), H went off to the bank to settle some stuff while I stayed behind to enjoy the view and to pay up. H gave me explicit warning not to disappear like I did last night. The story was that at the pub last night, I went to the toilet without telling H. So when H noticed that I disappeared and he spent the next 3 minutes searching the pub for me, only to realized that I was in the toilet.

While waiting for the bill, H’s housemates walked past the cafe. They saw me and mouthed out the question asking where was H. I mouthed back telling them that H was at the bank. Its a bit random, I know, this mouthing back and forth. The bill came and the price for breakfast was 44 dollars altogether. Damn….. anyway I paid up and by then H was crossing the road and walking back to the cafe.

We met up with both H’s housemates and proceeded to this shop called “The Christmas Shop”. On the way, H asked me how much was breakfast and when he learned of the price, his eyes, well, widened.

“The Christmas Shop” was a very small shop and it was very, very cosy. Every nook and cranny was filled with the most exquisite toys. I don’t mean toys as in those you see in “Toys R Us” or in departmental stores. I mean toys as in those old school and centuries ago toys. Furthermore, Christmas decorations dangled down from the ceiling. It was certainly a sight that it’s not available in Singapore.

As the shop was small and the walls were filled with selves, we could only walk and stand in single file. After H and his housemates signed some contract with the owner (a very homely woman), we left the shop and stood outside on the street while H and his two housemates started discussing about housing stuff.

H mentioned to me earlier in the morning that he was moving to a bigger place next month. So that whole discussion taking place was just that. Furthermore, it turned out that the owner of the Christmas shop was also the owner of the current apartment where H and his two housemates were staying and the other house where they were moving too. No wonder they signed a contract. I thought they were going to work there.

After the discussion, we split up and H and I proceeded to another cafe to have mocha. It was similar to the other cafe we came from previously but slightly bigger. It was filled with customers but not PACKED with people as it is so often seen in Singapore. After ordering our mochas (H’s treat!), we got a table in a corner near the window, where the sun was shining brightly (to keep us warm) and proceeded to wait.

I told H that back at our air base, we could get mocha at the canteen. H was incredulous and wondered how was that possible. It was possible, I told him, first you add half cup of milo, then you add half cup of coffee and ta-da, you get mocha! I told him that Sergeant Fong, a air force technician usually treated me to this drink.

Anyway, our mochas came and after regretting of not taking any photos of the Red-Door Cafe and the Christmas Shop, I started snapping away like crazy:

The Mocha

The Mocha

The Mocha again

The Mocha again

Mocha

Mocha

FYI, the cup is not brown, its covered in melted chocolate. So we have to scrap the chocolate off and mix it with the coffee. And look at all the bubbles at the top! It was very enjoyable slurping the mocha with H. H explained that he would come here sometimes and just have a mocha and enjoy/daydream his time here. That’s why, H said, he doesn’t really go down to Sydney because Blue Mountains is just too peaceful.

After our mocha, we made a detour to H’s apartment before taking a cab to Scenic World and the national parks. On the way there, I asked H if there was any public transport around here to which H replied not much. The only way to get around was by cab or car. We got to Scenic World in doubly quick time because the cab driver speeded his way there. (H paid for cab fare).

We headed in to pay for the entrance tickets and our ride tickets which came up to 56 dollars total. Both of us paid our share. It’s not that expensive. For 56 dollars, we can take all the rides (cableway, skyway and railway) and explore half the national park. Here’s a picture:

Scenic Work ticket

Scenic Work ticket

Not sure what the word “spawn” means.

As I was visibly excited by then, we decided to take the first route. Taking an elevator, we headed up two floors and queued in line to take the skyway. The skyway is something like a mini-bus on cable. After boarding the skyway and listening to the very hilarious tour guide: “Ladies and gentleman, boys and girls….” and his humourous description of the parks in his loud, booming voice, we all went to the busy of snapping photos. Luckily, it was not crowded so that were enough space.

The valley and blue mountains behind

The valley and blue mountains behind

Valley and mountains

Valley and mountains

H on the Skyway

H on the Skyway

H looks constipated here. He’s afraid of heights and this is his first time on the Skyway even though he been to Scenic World 5 times. I’m assuming he hasn’t been on the Cableway yet.


Me on the Skyway

Me on the Skyway

I blame H for taking such a horrible picture. And the epic of the day is…………



The Three Sisters

The Three Sisters

Yep, the famous rock formation called the Three Sisters.


Katoomba Falls

Katoomba Falls

We got off the Skyway after a 5 minutes ride. On the way, I asked H why the Blue Mountains were called Blue Mountains. With theatrical flair, H bought me to a look-out point and told me to look ahead and asked me why I saw.

I saw blue Blue Mountains.

Mountains from the observation point

Mountains from the observation point

Mountains from the observation point

Mountains from the observation point

Mountains from the observation point

Mountains from the observation point

Sign at the observation point

Sign at the observation point

H went on to explain that the mountains appear blue because of the light reflecting off from the vapours of the eucalypt (gum tree) leaves. Well, I think he was wrong cause I went to wiki to research it and apparently this is what wiki explained:

“… is derived from the blue tinge the range takes on when viewed from a distance. The tinge is caused by mie scattering which occurs when incoming ultraviolet radiation is scattered by particles within the atmosphere creating a blue-greyish colour to any distant objects, including mountains and clouds.”

I catch no ball. I think the explanation H provided was easier to understand, though not correct.

After walking around and taking some random pictures of gum trees like these:

random gum tree

random gum tree

There was really nothing much except for following the trail to the Katoomba Falls. Since H and I (mostly me) didn’t fancy getting our shoes wet (to have wet sock in winter is like freezing your feet), we decided to head back to the Skyway to take a ride back to the main centre.


On the glass floor

On the glass floor

On the glass floor on the Skyway. We’re about 230 metres above the ground. It took a bit of coaxing for H to come up and stand there. My feet is the black shoes while H is the brown shoes.


The Three Sisters again

The Three Sisters again

Part 3 coming up tomorrow.

Tripping to Blue Mountains Part 1

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I mentioned in my previous post about my trip to Blue Mountains and how great the trip was. Meeting up with a good friend, good food, good entertainment, fantastic weather and sightseeing.

I did not have time to blog about it the past few days cause I was busy with housework (pain in the butt) and school. Enrollment started on Monday and I had to choose my units of studies which where: English (Film, Text, Time), English (Grammer, blah blah), Psychology (Ranga wants to do this. That’s why he should come here) and World Politics. I’m not very keen on doing two English courses this semester (the amount of reading and essays) so I’m thinking of dropping one and taking up another course but I’m still not decided yet. I had orientation today which would continue tomorrow, so that left me very little time to blog.

Back to the Blue Mountains trip. I left Sydney last Thursday afternoon. I headed to the Central Station which is about 10 minutes walk from my hostel and for the first time was exposed to the complexities of taking inter-city trains. The ticket machine was simple enough, I chose my destination (Katoomba), chose the type of ticket (single fare) and paid up the fare ($12.20).

Ticket to Katoomba

Ticket to Katoomba

I bought the above ticket around 1:30pm but I only got the 3:30pm train cause my friend told me not to go to Blue Mountains too early. Central Station was big and it had all the inter-state, inter-country and metro trains combined. So I had to walk around looking for my platform. My second cousin and friend warned me not to go to the wrong platform and board the the wrong train. One peculiarities of Sydney trains is that they sometimes change platforms. So I had to pay attention to the PA system too.

The other peculiarity is that once you enter the platform areas, you can’t walk back to the station. This happened to me when I needed the toilet. I had a full bladder and was not sure if the train had toilets. As I didn’t want to take the risk of holding my bladder for the next two hours, I tried to walk back to the station area using my ticket. Fortunately, a station officer saw what I was trying to do so after explaining my predicament, he let me through the barrier. It seemed that this happens quite often and is normal. After the toilet business was done, I walked back to the platforms to search for my train (had to let the officer let me through the barrier) and found it.

After the settling down comfortably and showing my ticket to the ticket conductor (I’m on the right train, phew), I prepared myself for a 2 hours train journey.

And the trains do have toilets on them.

It was a long journey, but the changing scenery kept me occupied the whole way. A pity I didn’t take any pictures. The scenery of the sun setting against the mountains were really spectacular. I also had the first experience of seeing my train go through a tunnel hollowed out from the mountains.

I did some people watching on my train compartment. I noticed that many office people work in Sydney but then take an hour or hour and a half commute back home. One guy got off one stop before my station, making his commute almost 2 hours. Phew….

I was suppose to meet my friend at Katoomba station since it was near the hotel he was working at. But he called me later and told me that he knocked off early and told me to get off at Leura station, which was a stop before Katoomba.

Was it Leura or Laura?

One thing about inter-city trains is that they are old and so most of them don’t have any maps on board. Not like Singapore MRT. It means that the PA system is completely fucked up. On Singapore MRT, a loud, robotic voice will announce the stops clearly. But here, it’s the train driver announcing the stop and most of the time he is mumbling the words. He also announces the stops a few seconds before the train pull in. Furthermore, the train will only stop at a station for maximum of one minute before pulling out.

So most of the time, I had to squint through the darkness, trying to make out the train stations’ names. That was how I missed Leura station and disembarked at Katoomba around 6pm.

The first thing I noticed was that my breath started fogging. Moments later, the cold weather hit me. Even though I was wearing a undershirt, one long tee, one wool jacket, a wool scarf, a wool hat and jeans, these didn’t really help. As I stood freezing in the station, I called H (the friend).

I told him that I missed Leura and was now at Katoomba. After throwing a few choice swear words at me, he told me to stay put and he would come to pick me up. He later said that I had to treat him drinks as he would have wasted 10 dollars to make a 10 minutes journey.

I could have take the train back to Leura. But these are inter-city trains and they come every 45 minutes to one hour. And I don’t really fancy freezing for another one hour.

While waiting for H, I took some pictures.

Katoomba Station

Katoomba Station

A small hotel opposite

A small hotel opposite

H came about 15 minutes later. He chided me for getting off at Katoomba when I could have got off at Leura, which was just next to his apartment. Anyway, after the usual greetings and hellos, he asked me if I was hungry to which I said YES. I hadn’t had a meal since breakfast, which was 7 hours ago.

H and I walked through the main street of Katoomba. It’s a very small town. Very peaceful and there were few cars on the road. It was getting late (it was only 6:15pm!) and most of the shops were closed. H showed me the 5 star hotel where he was doing his F&B placement: The Carrington. That hotel is almost over two hundred years old and is an heritage. I didn’t take a picture at that time cause it was too cold (the town is 1000 metres above sea-level) so I’ll show you a picture I got from Google:

The Carrington

The Carrington

We headed to a small cafe to have a light snack. The cashier who took our orders was a Chinese man and half the time we couldn’t understand him. But at least we got our food. H, if I’m not wrong, had an egg roll while I had a cheese burger. The cheese burger was fantastic and better than any fast food restaurant; it had two patties of beef with melted cheese and chili sauce. It was piping hot and had the melt in the mouth taste. Just what we needed to warm our body.

We later headed to a small pub where we had a pint of golden ale. I can’t remember the name of the pub except that it was next to The Carrington. I can’t really remember the name of the ale. All I remembered was that the beer was cheap and had a crisp and refreshing taste with not too much hops in it. It certainly helped to wash down my burger snack. Of course, I treated H to drinks for the taxi fare.

We were waiting for H’s friend to finish class around 8pm. So after drinks, we decided to kill time by heading to Coles Supermarket. We wandered around the Children’s Section aimlessly before doing something idiotic. We bought (more accurately, H bought) a large container of gumballs. There was no reason to it. We saw it and it looked so big, so colourful and so tasty that we just bought it on the spot.

We still had time, so I offered to pay for the cab ride back to H’s apartment in Leura. Cost me 10 bucks for a 10 minutes ride. Cabs in Blue Mountains are expensive. I suggested walking but H said we would probably die from hypothermia first before we even reach his place. Quite true.

We spent the next half hour killing time at his apartment before heading over to the Blue Mountains Hospitality School to pick up his girlfriend after her classes. This time, H paid for the cab ride. Quid pro quo after all. After picking up his girlfriend, we headed to a Thai restaurant for dinner (H paid for cab ride). By then, my stomach was rumbling and I was on the verge on eating anything within my sight. The burger was only enough to quell my hunger pangs.

Unfortunately, the Thai restaurant was closed. The whole Leura main street was deserted and it was only 8:30pm. All the stores were closed and there was certainly no restaurants we could go to. After a few minutes deciding (the cold speeded up our decision-making) H suggested to have Domino’s. At that point, I couldn’t care less what we had for dinner. Pizzas, hamburger or steak, anything that was edible, I would have agreed.

So we walked back to H’s apartment (it was very close by) and promptly called the delivery line.

Unfortunately, there was no more ham or bacon.

And what’s pizza like without ham or bacon? Vegetarian. Damn…..

H apologized to me, saying this was not what he expected and I just told him to get my dinner pronto. So in the end, we decided to head back to Coles Supermarket (me footing the cab bill) and shop for food stuff (H’s girlfriend footing the food bill) and head back to H’s place to cook (H’s girlfriend footing the cab bill). Well, H, that bloody bugger, forgot his wallet.

Dinner was a feast. But a very weird feast.

Menacing H in the kitchen

Menacing H in the kitchen

H is making his minced chicken with onion omelet. The white bowl on his right contains the omelet. Verdict: tres delicious.


Fierce H

H the cook

Beside the omelet, we had store-bought pizza, which we almost burned it:


Zuii cutting the pizza

Zuii cutting the pizza

Zuii, H’s girlfriend, demonstrates how a pizza should be cut. Luckily, the pizza was still edible and we finished the whole pie. You see the white bowl and avocado next to Zuii on the basin? And the soy sauce bottle at the top of the pizza? Zuii taught me how to mix raw avocado with soy sauce to get a sweet and salty meal. Very filling and delicious!

We also had roast chicken:

H's godsister Vivian

H's godsister Vivian

I apologized to Vivian here. I know this is not a very glamourous shot of her and just wanted to say that she look better in person. And that’s the chicken she eating from.

Beside the omelet, soy-sauced avocado, pizza and chicken, we had instant noodles too. By then, we were not hungry but filled to bursting point. Weird but satisfying meal.

We slacked around for a bit until midnight before H bought me and Zuii along to a pub at Alexandria Hotel, which was near his place. Vivian was not in the mood so she stayed at home while H’s housemates (two girls, sorry no pictures and I can’t remember their names) went later.

This pub is one of the oldest in Leura and it had a mini disco area for people to dance. Every Thursday night, most of the students from the Blue Mountains Hospitality school and the other schools would congregate at the place. It was also where I had a minor problem.

The bouncer (huge guy) asked us for identification. H pulled out his student card while Zuii produced her passport. Me, being the usual idiot, produced my Singapore Pink ID. The bouncer glanced at me and asked if I had a passport. Damn, my passport was all the way in Sydney.

H explained to the bouncer that I didn’t have my passport with me so the bouncer, being understanding, let me in but advised me that I should either carry my passport or a photocopy of my passport with me.

To be frank, I had not encountered this before. The pubs and clubs that I go to in Vietnam, I was not required to show any identification, much less a passport. In Singapore, all I had to do was to produce my pink IC or military IC or driving license. This bringing passport thing to a pub or club is actually quite new to me.

It was fun at the pub. Not too crowded but it certainly had the vibe and atmosphere. As most of the people there were H’s friends (and he being the usual Mr. Popular), I was introduced to the load of them, with most of the girls cooing in wonder when they found out we were army buddies. Of course, we didn’t tell them we were only clerks. Some stuffs are better left unsaid. H’s housemates came down later and we had a chat and they recommended me to go down to Melbourne (they’re from Melbourne) since in their opinion, Melbourne is better than Sydney. I don’t mind Melbourne as it is easier to get around and much cheaper. But what I can’t stand is that during winter, its very cold and wet and I don’t really like cold and wet weather. So Sydney it is.

Zuii treated me to this drink called Black Russian, which was the first time H and I had it. Quite a sweet, tangy drink. It’s vodka mixed with coffee liqueur.  Later, H treated me to a Jagerbomb. I seldom drink Jagerbomb so I can’t really draw any comparison. But what I can say is that a lot of the drinks are very cheap.

For those who are reading these, and you know who, I did not pass out. I did had a lot of drinks but no, no passing out took place. I did not bring my camera along, which was a waste. I should have bought it along and took some pictures. I like the pub, it’s an old school building with wooden stools, tables and walls and even the bar is wooden. Even though there was a lot of students making merry, it had an old school vibe to it. The fact that it was in a secluded area facing the highway and mountains added to its charm.

I did have a close shave with a guy who was either drunk or just trying to attract attention. I think it was the later because the bouncers didn’t throw him out when he punched one of them. He didn’t exactly punched them, just hit them in the way a child would hit an adult. Basically, he was just going around and hitting people in that joking, drunken way.

Later on, when he stopped to take a sip from his drink, he made eye contact with me for a few, long seconds. I smiled at him to acknowledge his greeting (so I thought) when he slowly prowled to the table where I was sitting.

As I was sitting opposite him, the guy had to walk around H and Zuii to get to me. By then, I was extremely tensed, I could tell by the way he move: slowly and calmly, with his gazed fixed on me constantly, that this was no friendly greeting.

He stood between H and I and by then H was staring at the guy, wondering what the hell he was doing. Still, that guy concentrated his glare at me and just stood there for the next 5 seconds. That were the longest 5 seconds of my life. My left arm was slight raised, to deflect any blows that guy was planning to rain on me while my right hand balled up into a fist, ready for the counterattack.

Then he strike.

I reacted by leaning back. Instead of landing his fist into my face, his right palm landed on my left shoulder and he gave me big grin.

“You all right, mate? Want to play a game?”

I just gave him a tight grin, the nervous energy still wound up in me and said no. H butted in and calmly told the guy that we were doing just fine and thank him for the invitation.

With that, the guy smiled at both of us and told us to enjoy our drinks before walking off. H and I discussed this the next day and I told H that if he had punched me, I would had retaliated. H told me that the guy would have been dead cause nearly all the international students were there and they would certainly beat the crap out of him if he did that.

H advised me that during my stay in Blue Mountains and Sydney, I would come across these people frequently. The only way to handle them was to just smile and politely decline anything they offer. He also told me not to give them any reason to fight me.

We stayed until closing time (2am) before heading back to H’s apartment. I slept in the living-room on a fold-out bed. The bed was big, almost queen size and quite comfortable. As it was cold, H provided me a electric heater and a blanket and I turned in for the night.

Part two coming up tomorrow. It will have more pictures than this post.